


sweeter than candy on a stick

by soperiso



Series: coronavirus and superhero quarantines [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, COVID-19, Coronavirus, Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hugs, Humor, Irondad, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Party, Pool, Quarantine, Uncle Sam Wilson, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, because my god i need a hug, for real, no pain only good times, no starker here folks, peter and sam hanging out bc we need more of that, that joke will never get old, they're quarantined but it's not the main point of the story, thorbruce rights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24899254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soperiso/pseuds/soperiso
Summary: “Don’t do it,” Peter says.Wanda wiggles her fingers. “I’m gonna do it.”Peter runs an anxious hand through his sopping wet hair. “I swear to God, Wanda, they’re going to kill you.”Wanda shrugs. “Then I shall perish.”---Or, the Avengers have a pool party.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Thor, Bruce Banner/Thor, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, brotp or otp who knows, now here comes the fun part, you choose whether or not their dating
Series: coronavirus and superhero quarantines [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766203
Comments: 19
Kudos: 270





	sweeter than candy on a stick

**Author's Note:**

> is this my brand now? do i only write vaguely cracky feel-good fics? oh, well.
> 
> title from that one song about the lollipops. you know the one.

Peter trudges into the Avengers’ living room and flops onto one of the couches, face down. 

“You good?” Sam asks, mildly concerned but mostly amused.

“Hnng,” is Peter’s reply. He has such a way with words, he knows.

Sam nods. “Thought so.”

“I was watching Flash’s Instagram live and he’s at a _pool_. I wanna be at a pool,” Peter says, his voice muffled.

“I’m pretty sure Tony has a pool, kid.” 

Peter abruptly sits up. “Wait, really?”

“This is Tony Stark we’re talking about. If I were to guess, I’d say the guy has a pool in his extra-ass tower.”

“FRIDAY, where’s Mr. Stark?” Peter says.

“Boss is in his workshop. Shall I tell him that you request his presence?”

Peter nods, then remembers that she can’t see him—or can she…?—and says, “If he’s not in the middle of something, that’d be great, FRI.”

“On it,” she pauses, “Boss is on his way up.”

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome, Peter.”

A moment later, the elevator opens. Tony walks out and sits next to Peter. “Hey, kiddo, Sam, FRIDAY said you guys needed me?”

Peter looks at him, wide-eyed, “Do you have a pool?”

Tony scoffs. “What kind of question is that? I’m Tony Stark: of course, I have a pool.”

“See, I told you,” says Sam.

“Can we use it?” Peter asks Tony, who nods.

“Whenever you want, bud.”

Peter thinks about it and concludes that he would very much like to have a pool party. He tells Tony this, and Tony asks him who he’d like to invite, like “Ted, maybe?”

“C’mon, his name is Ned and you know it. Also, have you forgotten about Ms. Rona? I can’t invite Ned over here.”

Tony shrugs, “Chlorine kills ‘Ms. Rona’, as you put it, so I think it’d be fine.”

Peter grimaces. “Still not a chance I’m willing to take.”

Peter lost nearly every single parental figure in his life. He’s not jeopardizing May and Tony’s lives for _anything._

Tony seems to realize this because he backs off. “Alright, so Tower people only. That’s fine, there are a bunch of us. Who’re you thinking?”

Peter tilts his head. “Uhm, everyone? Yeah, everyone is good.”

Tony laughs, “You got it, Pete. Let me know when you guys decide to do this thing.”

“Will do, Mr. Stark!” Peter chirps.

Tony leaves, and Peter and Sam dive into planning their little pool party. It’s pretty much the only substantial thing they’ve had to do in quite some time, so they really get into it. They’re talking banners, snacks, the whole shebang.

“So, we thinkin’ lemonade or pina coladas? Is this fancy or casual?” Peter asks, jotting down notes on his phone.

“Definitely lemonade. You’re underage, remember?” Sam raises a suspicious eyebrow at him.

Peter laughs. “ _Virgin_ pina coladas, Sam.”

“People probably aren’t gonna care what kind of drinks we put out,” Sam says.

“But still.”

Sam raises two placating hands. “Okay, okay, let’s go with lemonade, yeah? Keep it casual.”

Peter nods. “I can vibe with that.”

Sam chuckles. “You can ‘vibe’ with it? Really, Pete?”

“Don’t diss me for my teenage lingo, old man.”

Sam raises an affronted hand to his chest. “Old? You’re calling me old? Compared to Steve, I’m practically a teenager.”

“Oh yeah? What does that make me, then?”

Sam makes a show of assessing him, before deeming him an “Infant. Not too far off, really.”

“I’m choosing to ignore that for the sake of having a well-planned pool party.”

Sam laughs. “Alright, alright. What’re you thinking?”

“Well,” Peter begins.

They launch back into party-planning and don’t stop until they have everything figured out.

___________

Steve’s watching Jeopardy on his TV when a little envelope slips under his door. Curious, he walks over and bends down to pick it up. It’s got ‘Steve’ written on the front in Sam’s handwriting. Steve opens it and pulls out a card that reads ‘Pool Party’, along with a date and time. It’s vague, but it gets the message across, he supposes. He pulls out his phone and opens Sam’s contact.

**shmaptain shmerica**

You know you could’ve just texted me, right?

Steve.

**bird boy 2.0**

yeah but the kid was excited about it. also u don’t need to sign texts. u can just send them.

**shmaptain shmerica**

Thanks for letting me know.

Steve.

**bird boy 2.0**

oh come on man

i know u know better

Steve laughs because, yeah, he does know better. He has too much fun annoying Sam to ever stop, though.

___________

Throughout the tower, every other inhabitant receives a similar note. All accept, welcoming a break from the crushing monotony that has taken over their lives.

___________

  
  


Peter steps out of the elevator, snack bag in hand, and immediately becomes slack-jawed. The pool room is incredible; the opposite wall is entirely covered with windows, bathing the room in a beautiful natural light that makes the water shine like the lines on a turtle’s shell, shimmering and constantly in motion. The pool itself is gargantuan. Like, it’s seriously huge. There are not one, but _three_ diving boards, all varying in height with the tallest being what Peter estimates is 20 feet. The depth of the pool ranges from a shallow three feet to a chasmic _fifteen feet_ , which is insane. Peter can already phantom-feel the pain his ears would face if he swam all the way to the bottom.

The area around the pool is covered with various cozy-looking pool chairs and little tables. There’s a bar—because of course there is—and a whole bunch of towels.

“Pete, you gonna help?” Sam asks as he drops one of the bags of snacks on the bar.

“Yeah, coming,” Peter says, jogging over to the bar and setting his bag down as well. He and Sam arrange the snacks, making them look presentable.

“I think this place is already good enough, as is. Not much to set up,” Sam says, surveying the substantial room.

“People are gonna get here soon anyway, right?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, in half an hour.”

“We can just hang out until then,” Peter pauses, “Should we get in? Or, like, just chill.”

“Whatever you want, man.”

“Okay, um,” he spots a ginormous bin of pool toys against the wall because apparently everything in this room is huge. “Wait, woah, let’s go see what’s in there,” he says, pointing to the bin.

Sam gestures for him to lead the way, so Peter does. They open the box and look at each other, amazed at its contents. There are pool noodles and floaties, galore. They have every type of floatie, from animal-themed ones to plain old water chairs.

Peter grabs a large one that’s shaped like a rubber duck, showing it to Sam with excitement written all over his face. 

Sam chuckles at his enthusiasm and picks out one that looks like a pizza. “Look at this, it’s ridiculous. I love it.”

Peter laughs, walking over to the pool and tossing his duck into it. “Do you think your thing will actually float with a whole person on it?”

“Only one way to find out,” Sam says, placing it onto the water’s surface. He wades into the pool. “Water’s warm,” he calls out to Peter.

“That’s good, cold pools are the worst.”

Sam stands next to the pizza floatie for a second, and Peter’s not really sure how he’s gonna get onto it; it’s pretty flat, so just climbing onto it is out of the question unless Sam wants to immediately capsize. 

Sam seems to realize this too because he climbs out of the pool and reaches down to drag the pizza directly in front of him. He carefully slides onto it, careful not to put too much weight on one side.

Peter admires his dedication; there’s a whole bin of other floaties that are likely much easier to get onto.

Sam manages it, though, which kind of surprises Peter. If he’s being honest, he kind of expected him to tip over at least once. 

“C’mon,” Sam says, “Don’t make me float on a pizza all alone, I’ll look ridiculous. Gotta get that rubber duck in here, too.”

“Alright, alright,” Peter says, tugging the duck towards him and getting a leg over it. He seats himself the rest of the way on it and pushes off the wall towards Sam. 

“This is my childhood dream come true,” Peter says.

“Really? You looked at those little rubber duckies in your bathtub and thought ‘oh, wow, I wish I could ride one of those like a wack-ass horse’?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“You’re a weird kid, you know that?”

“My friend, MJ, says that the weirder you are, the more fun you are.”

Sam hums, “Can’t argue with that, I guess.”

“She’s very wise. And pretty. But she’d rather I call her wise than pretty. Between you and me, I think she likes being called pretty, too. I mean, who doesn’t?” Peter gets a faraway look in his eye, and he knows that Sam can tell exactly why.

“So, this girl’s pretty special, huh?” Sam asks, and Peter can tell that he’s being genuine.

“She’s really, really great.”

“Does someone have a crush?” Sam sing-songs. Ah, there’s the teasing.

Peter blushes, a bit. “So what if I do?” He sits up taller on his duck floatie.

“You should tell her.”

“I can’t, man. It’d mess up the whole dynamic.”

“What if it messes it up for the better?”

Peter doesn’t have anything to say to that, because Sam has a point.

“Here, lemme give you some dating advice. I got it from my friend, Aaron. You know, Miles’ uncle?”

Peter nods, looking at Sam inquisitively.

“You know about the shoulder touch?”

Peter shakes his head, no.

What you’ve gotta do,” Sam continues, “Is walk up to her and be like,” Sam mimes placing a hand on someone’s shoulder, “ _Hey_.”

“Got it,” Peter says, copying Sam’s body language, “Hey.”

Sam laughs. “No, no, it’s more like… _Hey_.”

Peter frowns. “That’s what I said, ‘hey’.”

“You’ve gotta say it a certain way, or else you’ll be stuck in the friend zone forever. It’s not ‘hey’, it’s _‘hey’_.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Peter says.

Sam grins. “Yeah, that’s better!”

Peter laughs. “Alright, I’ll use that one on MJ. Wish me luck.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

Peter smiles, “I will.”

The sound of multiple voices directs their attention to the elevator. Peter grins excitedly when people start pouring into the room. Everyone’s already got their swimsuits on—except Tony, who’s wearing an honest-to-God suit—and everything.

Everyone greets each other like soccer moms at a game before heading off in various directions. Some people are very interested in the pool floaties (Thor), while others are more interested in the lounge chairs (Pepper). Clint runs in, Natasha in tow, and flings both of them right into the deep end. The sound of echoing laughter meets Peter’s ears, and he’s really glad that he and Sam decided to do this.

___________

Later, Nat is seated on the side of the pool, the bottom half of her legs submerged in the water but the rest of her dry. Peter doesn’t know what she’s thinking about, but her eyes are a bit glazed over. He figures she’s probably lost in a memory of some sort. Whether it’s a good one or a bad one, Peter doesn’t know. He joins her by the poolside, nudging his shoulder against hers. 

She returns to herself, giving him a small smile and a nudge in return. Peter kicks his legs a bit, eyeing the tallest diving board at the end of the pool, “Can you do a double backflip?” He asks. It’s random, but he figures she could use the distraction. The diving board is enormous, so it's definitely high enough for them to get some good flips in.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, “What kind of question is that? Of course, I can do a double backflip.”

She stands up and strides to the diving board, making a show of lifting her arms above her head like a gymnast at a competition before turning around and leaping directly into a double backflip. She lands gracefully, like a professional diver, and Peter gets a spray of water to the face. She swims back over to him, and Peter gapes. 

“Oh, man, I’ve gotta try that.” He says, already standing up and rushing towards the board.

“Let’s see it,” Nat calls out to him.

Peter takes a breath, steeling himself before he jumps off. He’s not as graceful as Nat, so he hits the water with a large splash that is the cause of many annoyed shouts. He still counts it as a win. 

“That wasn’t bad,” Nat says, her expression matching the Obama impressed face.

Peter grins. Praise is always nice, especially when it’s from the literal Black Widow. “How about a cartwheel on the board into a double—no, a _triple_ backflip?” He asks, his grin unwavering and his excitement increasing as she smirks, “Oh, my God, Nat. Can you actually do that?”

“Watch and learn,” is all she says before executing the move with, like, ridiculous ease.

“Holy shit. My turn, let’s go,” Standing at the back of the diving board, apprehension grows in his chest, “You got this, you got this, you got this,” He’s got this, right? Nat is watching, though, and he’d really rather not mess up terribly in front of her. 

“Stop psyching yourself out and do it already.”

“Okay, okay! I’m going!” He does a little skip-looking-thing before throwing himself into the cartwheel Franken–flip. It’s going well until he overshoots the diving board on his cartwheel landing and tumbles right into the pool.

Nat is full-on laughing at him. The _audacity_.

“Nice,” she says, “You really nailed that one.” 

“I made an attempt! An attempt was made, and I think that’s good enough!”

Nat just exhales loudly out of her nose, like people do when they see a funny meme, “I thought your spider powers included acrobatic ability.”

“They do!” Peter gets back onto the diving board, “That’s it, I’m trying again.”

He’s got it this time, for sure. He sticks the landing and jumps right into one… two… three backflips. Peter is the best at this, ever. There is no one better than him.

“That was a bit better.” Nat actually looks pretty impressed.

“It was phenomenal and you know it. I could give Olympic divers a run for their money.”

“You keep telling yourself that.”

“I will, thanks.”

“Smartass.”

“You got me. Okay, twisty pencil dive time. You wanna go first?”

“No, I want to see what on Earth you mean by ‘twisty pencil dive’.”

“It’s a pencil dive, but you pretend you’re the drill in _Incredibles_.”

Nat pauses to think back to the movie, and Peter can see the exact moment when it clicks in her head.

Peter jumps off the board in a traditional diving fashion before forcibly twisting his body so that he rotates like a 7-Eleven hot dog (but much, much faster). He lands with a _plop_ and swims back over to Nat.

Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is slightly open.

Holy shit, she’s _impressed_. This is the best day of Peter’s life.

“Point your damn toes, Parker.”

There it is. “Yes ma’am.”

Natasha snorts, shaking her head fondly. She reaches over to ruffle his hair and Peter leans into the touch, smiling.

_____________

“Don’t do it,” Peter says. He and Wanda are standing in the shallow end of the pool, discussing a very important matter.

Wanda wiggles her fingers. “I’m gonna do it.”

Peter runs an anxious hand through his sopping wet hair. “I swear to God, Wanda, they’re going to kill you.”

Wanda shrugs. “Then I shall perish.”

Peter pauses, full-stop. “Was that—did you just quote a meme at me? Do you look at memes?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“You can’t—oh, whatever, let’s just do this if you’re really gonna do it,” Peter says, 

Wanda grins mischievously “Three… two… one…” At one, she uses her powers to lift a ridiculous amount of water, carry it across the room, and drop it on top of Steve and Tony, who had been idly chatting on some lounge chairs.

The water utterly soaks them, head to toe. They sit there for a moment, clearly in shock.

Then, “WHAT THE FUCK,” Tony shouts, looking around wildly until he sees Peter and Wanda clutching onto each other and laughing wildly, “YOU TWO DID THIS? THIS SUIT IS ARMANI!”

Peter cups his hands around his mouth and hollers over to Tony, “Why would you wear an Armani suit to a pool party? That’s just plain dumb.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius, Stark?” Wanda teases.

“That’s it, you little shits. FRIDAY, send me a suit. You know which one.”

“On it, Boss.”

“Oh, my God,” Peter says, lifting his hands to cover his face, “This is how we die. I told you, Wanda. I told you this would happen!”

The suit flies in, and Peter continues chanting “Oh, my God.”

It stops directly in front of Peter and Wanda before blasting the water in front of them with an air hose of some sort. A _wave_ crashes down upon them, drenching them entirely.

Peter gasps for air, trying to clear the water from his eyes. “Oh, my God,” he says.

“Oh, my God,” Wanda agrees.

_____________

Later, Peter sees Tony all by his lonesome. He still hasn’t changed out of the Armani suit.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, swimming over to tread water in front of Tony.

Tony sighs fondly. “For the love of God, Pete, call me Tony.”

Peter could do that, but it’s too much fun to mess with him. “Okay, Mr. Stark.”

“Little shit,” Tony laughs.

“For sure,” Peter says, “Anyway, I realized something.”

“Oh? Is it that you shouldn’t splash people when they’re obviously not wanting to get wet?”

“Nope. Remember when you said that chlorine kills Ms. Rona?.”

Tony frowns, “Yeah. What’re you getting at?”

Peter smiles, his eyes crinkling ever-so-slightly. “Technically, I can hug you in the pool.”

Tony makes a show of looking contemplative. Then: “You make a compelling argument. C’mere.” He opens his arms towards Peter.

Peter’s smile transforms into a full-on grin. He swims over to Tony, throwing his arms around his midsection as Tony wraps one of his arms around Peter’s back and threads the other one through his hair.

“This is nice,” Peter says, and by God he means it. He’s gotten hugs from other people (who don’t have ridiculously compromised immune systems) and they’re great, but they just aren’t the same. It’s the novelty, he supposes. He and Tony don’t hug every five seconds the way that he and May do. Peter thinks that they can get there, at some point, but they’re simply not there yet. Either way, Peter’s going to appreciate every single Tony hug he gets. 

“We should do this more often,” Tony says.

Peter hums in agreement and squeezes Tony a little bit tighter. Tony squeezes him back. 

Maybe quarantine isn’t so bad if it gives him moments like these.

_____________

“So you humans fill a ceramic tub with gallons of water and attempt to not drown in it… for fun?” Thor says, sitting on the edge of the pool. These Midgardians are odd, to say the least. Thor doesn’t understand their customs, but he will do his best to respect them.

Banner, standing in front of Thor, absent-mindedly places a gentle hand on Thor’s knee. “It sounds weird when you put it like that, but basically,” he says.

Thor cocks his head. “Why?” He finds that the best way to understand Midguardian customs is to understand the motive behind them.

Banner shrugs. “It’s fun. Here, let me show you something I like to do.”

He steps away from Thor and floats on his back, not unlike those ‘otter’ creatures that young Peter had shown him.

“You lie on your back, like this, and you let yourself just float,” he says.

Thor decides that it seems simple enough, and attempts it himself. ‘Attempt’ is the key word, there. He seems to be unable to float as effortlessly as Banner had.

“I cannot do it. I am sinking,” he says, his eyebrows furrowed and disappointment in his tone.

Banner swims to his side and pushes lightly on Thor’s lower back. “Arch your back and move your feet a bit,” he says.

Thor does as Banner instructs and finds himself miraculously able to float. _What witchcraft is this?_ He wonders. Midgard is full of surprises. “Like this?” he asks.

Banner grins, stepping back. “Yeah! You’ve got it.”

Thor continues to float using his legs to move himself around, a bit. “This is enjoyable! I feel as though I am a deceased body floating on the Gjöll river!”

A confused, yet supportive, expression crosses Banner’s face. “That’s… great, Thor.”

Thor grins. “‘Tis!”

Banner joins him, and they lazily float and chat for a while.

Suddenly, Thor bumps into something that most definitely isn’t a wall.

“Gahh!” Stark says, shooting his arms out and splashing Thor with chemical water, letting go of young Peter, whom he appears to have been embracing, in the process.

Thor splutters, moving upright. “How dare you assault me?” he bellows.

Stark pulls his arms back into a placating gesture, young Peter doing his best to stifle a laugh behind him. 

“Calm down, Thor,” Stark says, “I didn’t mean to. It was just a knee-jerk reaction. Plus, _you_ bumped into _me_.”

“That was not a ‘knee-jerk’ reaction; t’was your arms that attacked me,” Thor says, confused.

Stark sighs. “It’s just an expression.”

_Why must Midguardians have so many expressions?_ Thor thinks. _Can they not just say what they mean?_ Regardless, there’s a more important matter to address.

“We must settle this dispute with a duel,” Thor says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Stark grimaces. “Yeah, how about we don’t, buddy?” 

Stark moves to step away, but Banner intervenes.

“No, no, Tones,” he teases, “He’s got a point.”

“I’m not dueling him! That’s out of the question, sorry Brucie Bear.”

“How about a chicken fight?” Banner suggests.

Thor is unsure why a chicken fight is the best choice, given their current location.

“Where would we acquire the chickens?” Thor asks, frowning.

Banner chuckles. “No, not real chickens. You pick a partner, they sit on your shoulders, and you fight against somebody who’s sitting on someone else’s shoulders,” he explains.

Thor perks up at that. “Ah, a fight to the death?”

Banner facepalms. “No, Thor! A fight to see who gets knocked over first.”

Thor considers the idea. “That is acceptable as well, I suppose.”

Stark cups his hands around his mouth. “Cap, get over here,” he says, “You’re my partner.”

The Captain swims over. “Am I on top or bottom?”

“Bottom, just this once,” Stark says, smirking.

Thor is unsure why the Captain would ever be on top. He is so much larger than Stark; Stark could not carry his weight.

Thor is also unsure why young Peter finds their words so amusing.

Thor places a hand on Banner’s shoulder. “Will you be my partner in battle?”

Banner smiles, one side of his mouth higher than the other. “Sure, Thor,” he says.

“You’re going down, Green Bean. Literally. Cap and I will throw you and Point Break to the bottom of this pool,” Stark taunts.

“Bring it, Metal Man,” Banner says, cracking his knuckles.

“I’m gonna just… remove myself from the situation,” Peter says, swimming over to take a seat on the side of the pool and observe them from afar.

Thor charges into battle, and they fight majestically over who shall remain with their honor intact. He does not intend to lose on this day.

_____________

Rhodey sighs as he watches Thor and Bruce try to take down Steve and Tony. It’s hardly even a fight; they’re just slapping each other like a pair of teenagers who wore the same dress to prom and conveniently happen to hate each other. 

Rhodey turns to face Pepper, May, and Bucky. He gestures back with his thumb, like Ross from _Friends_. “Get a load of these idiots,” he says. He doesn’t care what Tony says, he’s very hip.

Pepper peels a pair of cucumbers off her eyes, looks at the warring fools, sighs, and puts them back on.

May laughs. “See, this is what ‘boys will be boys’ really means,” she says before taking a sip out of her lemonade, continuing to watch them over her straw.

Rhodey wishes he still had her patience.

Bucky runs a tired hand over his face. “They’re idiots,” he says, “but they’re our idiots.”

The sound of Thor shouting, “Ha! We are victorious!” echoes throughout the room. Rhodey golf claps, and laughs at Tony’s betrayed expression.

“I thought you were on my side, Platypus!” He yells out to Rhodey.

“Don’t worry, Tones, I still love you,” Rhodey shouts back.

Tony puts a hand to his cheek and flops the other one forward, jokingly coy.

Thor swims around excitedly, a laughing Bruce still on his back.

Rhodey smiles, taking a long sip out of his lemonade, enjoying the moment.

_____________

  
  


“Thanks for doing this with me, Sam,” Peter says as everyone is heading back to their floors.

Sam smiles, ruffling Peter’s hair. “Anytime, Pete. You know, you’re not so bad. Definitely not as annoying as I thought you were.”

“I—” Peter begins, “Thanks?”

“You’re very welcome,” Sam says, walking away.

Peter’s not sure if he completely understands Sam, yet, but he sure thinks he’s pretty neat.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to leave a kudos and a comment if you liked it!
> 
> come hang out with me on [tumblr!](https://soperiso.tumblr.com)


End file.
